Unspoken Grief
by AkibasOmega
Summary: This is the Drabble for Round 4: The House Competition Harry is left with pounds of grief and sorrow for those lost in the war. The grief and pain of his friends and families death plagued him, as he stayed in Grimmauld Place. He knew he needed to move one, but how?


_House: Slytherin  
__Year: 5th  
__Class: Potions  
__Prompt: [Song] Empty Chair at Empty Table from Les Miserables  
__Category: Drabble  
__Word Count: 1973  
__Title: Unspoken Grief_

* * *

A/N:(42) Harry is left with pounds of grief and sorrow for those lost in the war. The grief and pain of his friends and families death plagued him, as he stayed in Grimmauld Place. He knew he needed to move one, but how?

* * *

Harry was stuck in a place between mourning and grieving. He grieved for those he'd lost in the war every moment, but his mourning seemed to be lasting longer than those outside of his life. The battle of Hogwarts had been over for months, the cleanup had already finished and people were moving on. Yet, Harry was still stuck in the same spot. Still, a prisoner to his grief and sorrow. The death count hadn't reached past a hundred, but Harry felt like he could feel each and every one weighing on him.

They'd all put their faith in him, a teenager, to win the war against the Dark Lord as fast as possible. But he hadn't been strong enough. Hadn't had enough training. With the years it had taken, Harry was just slightly grateful that _more_ people hadn't been killed. It didn't dampen the sorrow he felt for those who had died though. The gratefulness was overshadowed, just as everything else, but the grief.

So many friends had been lost. It was physically painful when he heard others speaking about those lost. Tore barely healed wounds open, making Harry retreat. Which was why he'd isolated himself to Grimmauld Place. It's dark and decrepit looks had fit his needs, though it too brought up painful and saddening memories. But then, Harry felt as if he couldn't escape the numerous places that brought painful memories of people.

He pulled out a chair at the old table, placing a medium-sized box on it. Hermione had sent a letter saying that one way to deal with grief was to confront those memories and move on. So, he'd grabbed his box of photos and headed for the kitchen. The place everyone had often sat together. Planning what to do next or just to get some comfort.

Looking at old Hogwarts photos of everyone, producing a sorrowful and sinking feeling in him. It hurt just to look at the pictures as he remembered laughing with each of them over something trivial. They were smiling in the few pictures he owned, waving in some cases. The photos were the one thing he hated at the moment. As Wizarding photos moved, it had captured a moment in time when his friends and family had been alive and happy. Enjoying their lives, gossiping or planning jokes. But it wasn't something they'd be able to do anymore. Because he hadn't moved fast enough.

Grief stole it's way through him as he looked over the album Hagrid had given him. He stroked the faces of his parents, before flipping to the pages that held the few clippings and pictures of Sirius and Remus. The difference choked him up, made him weepy. He tried to smile back at the pictures as they waved at him, but he couldn't bring himself to do so. He had survived while they had not. They had died in a war that had been centered around him and Voldemort.

He flipped around to the various pictures of himself, Hermione and Ron. They were always huddled together, even as firsties. It made him miss those times, when the thrill of an adventure didn't mean that someone could automatically die. But now it just tasted bitter on his tongue as he watched them grow, but still be huddled together more often than not. He glanced at the members of the D.A who hadn't survived, comparing it to the picture of the original Order members. They were strikingly similar.

They had died in order to help him kill a mad man. Seven years in the making.

Hermione and Ron thought that he might be in shock, or even denial. With how he refused to move on from his grief. But he barricaded himself away from them. It was easier to ignore their help, than to face the pain and longing that seemed to build itself up. While he _was_ missed Ron and Hermione, he didn't want them to have to feel obligated to take care of him. He needed to be alone for a while. Needed to come to terms with the consequences of the war.

Harry shifted around the table as he stared at the spot his godfather had liked to occupy. If there had been others around, they would have felt the sorrow he held for the death of the man he barely knew. His eyes sparkled with tears, as his chest tightened with painful remembrance. It hurt every time he went into a room. Where he could remember Sirius laughing, joking or being snide. The tears fell as a phantom outlines of his godfather appeared, smiling at him sadly before gazing around the room.

Sirius would often smile at him, or mime something, tearing an unwanted chuckle or choking sob. But then, he'd missed out on fourteen years with a man who had known his parents, who had been part of the few family-like members he had left. There had been so much the two had needed to talk about, but the War had always gotten in the way. The regret and guilt seemed to mount the longer he thought about Sirius.

"I'm so sorry Sirius. If only I'd been more careful." He whispered into the empty room.

The young man sobbed, hand pressed to his chest as if it might disappear. It hurt Harry so much to see these apparitions of his family and friends. The pressure kept building, the more he lost himself in the memories of his Godfather, it was always like that. But he knew that if he were to look anywhere else, more phantom shadows of his friends and family would appear.

The house was silent, as Harry stayed at an empty table. His mind moving onto Remus as it saw a faint shadow of the dead man. He too smiled at Harry, but he was looking off to the side at someone else. It didn't take a genius for Harry to figure Remus would be staring at where Tonks had always stood. It felt like a hole had been punched into his chest. He'd seen them lying side by side, fingers barely touching even in death. They had died in love. He mourned for the love that hadn't been able to bloom.

"Remus, I'm sorry you and Tonks never got to get married. I'm sorry you died during my fight with the Dark Lord. I'm so sorry." He sobbed, staring at them both.

Memories of Tonk changing her face, while they'd been locked in Grimmauld popped up. Tearing an unintentional bark of laughter from him. As he watched her go from animal to animal, her hair changing just as fast. He'd never seen anything like it, but it had been awesome. He'd learned later it was an ability specific to the Black family. Sirius's family. Which was now completely dead. Tear seemed to build themselves back up in the face of an entire family being gone.

It tore at something inside him, eating away at him until the kitchen surrounding him was filled with memories and pictures of dead friends and family. He could see his mum and dad sitting beside Remus and Sirius, laughing together as if they were catching up after having been separated for so long. It made the tears fall faster and fatter, when they seemed to look straight into his soul and smile at him. It was unfair, the grief and pain that refused to leave him, even as more shadows and phantoms appeared.

"I don't even know what we were fighting for anymore." He whispered, afraid that someone might hear. "I don't even know if your sacrifices were worth the outcome. I'm here all alone."

He knew it was impossible for them to be there, his friends and his family, were very much dead and gone. Never to return to him. Leaving him alone in the world. He cried for their deaths, he allowed the pain to swallow him as he asked for their forgiveness for having survived the encounter with Voldemort. For surviving while they had died. The grief overwhelmed him, loud weeping flowing freely taking his tears, signifying the severity of his emotions. It felt like it would leave him drained and empty, which was a normal feeling these days.

"What am I supposed to do now?" He muttered, unsure of how long he'd actually been in Grimmauld Place.

The days always seemed to blend together. But then, he hadn't really cared about anything outside of the town house. Even Walaburga's portrait hadn't bothered him. His grief had blocked everything out. Everything, but the pain and sorrow and misery that had accompanied him home from the battle.

Harry wasn't sure why he stayed at Grimmauld place. The faces of those he knew, Order members or Schoolmates, seemed to haunt him. Taunting him with the fact that they were dead, and he wasn't. Just seeing silhouettes of them was enough to make him unconsolable; his grief paralyzing him. Severus, Remus, Sirius, Tonks, Colins, Lavender, his Mum and Dad, Dumbledore and a dozen other faces smiled at him from the different rooms of the decrepit manor.

"I deserve this, on some level. Right?" His voice echoed back to him, as he asked his moving pictures.

The young man knew why he stayed. He was punishing himself for not having defeated Voldemort sooner. Grimmauld Place had once been a place where their flames of war had been fanned and where their revolution had begun. But the emptiness of the kitchen would remain the same. They'd given so much, just to see their world reborn. Like a Phoenix.

Just thinking about Fawkes made Harry tear up. He could see a faint shadow of Dumbledore, smiling at him. He simply nodded at the man, before staring off to the side. Just the thought of the order brought more sadness. Everything seemed to be tainted by his grief. Even deaths that hadn't been linked to him, made the sorrow grow.

"Will the pain ever go away?" Harry whimpered to himself, hugging his middle tightly. "Will empty spaces go away?"

But the chairs would remain forever empty. The table would never be occupied again. The silence made everyone's absence that much more apparent.

He wanted their forgiveness though, for having survived when they had not. The grief that constantly consumed him, couldn't be explained to anyone. Not even the friends that had survived. Especially when talks about the War was brought up. Talks about how those dead, had the will to fight for their beliefs, Harry knew that better than anyone.

Harry mourned, weeping openly, not caring if anyone were to hear him. He had to do something to ease the crushing guilt and grief. He needed to get away from Grimmauld Place. Get away from the place that held all the tarnished memories of his loved ones, reminders of his parents.

The teen knew the world was waiting for him, his friends had all moved on having found comfort in each other. He knew that Ginny was waiting on him. Sure the grief could be easily ignored, until he was alone. The solitude made his life seem more empty by the vacancies left behind.

The world was bright and happy sounding, as he stepped out of his self-imposed isolation. It was much louder than he remembered, and he idly wondered if Ron and Hermione would welcome him, or turn him away. They had much catching up to do, even if it _were_ painful.

The majority of the Wizarding world was tainted by memories of adventures and missions for the war. Even though he was outside, the grief stayed with him. It was time for him to move one, as much as he could.

He would forever carry the grief and pain the War had caused. But it was time to live.


End file.
